Saving Grace (Madison Falls) (29 page)

Sam looked up as if he’d been caught unawares. “Oh, sorry.” He turned his body just enough to gesture to each woman in accord with her name. “Grace, this is Jill and Colleen.”

Grace stammered out a greeting that utilized no recognizable words. Didn’t these women know about each other?

The blonde—
Colleen
—smiled warmly. “Nice to finally meet you, Grace.” She shifted her focus back to Sam. “We’re taking the party across the street.” Her nod indicated either her apartment or the bar. “I’d invite you, but we’re having girl talk.”

“Yeah, it’s really not his style.” Jill gave Colleen a friendly nudge.

Grace frowned. Colleen deserved a punch, not a prod. Jill had every reason to hate her, and they were sharing girl talk?

Guilt pierced the pit of her stomach. She had seriously considered kissing Sam. Jill should hate
her
too. Grace’s eyes washed over the poor girl, as she fought the urge to grovel for forgiveness.

Suddenly self-conscious, she considered beating a hasty retreat. Just as she was about to excuse herself, Sophia entered her line of sight. She looked vixen-like in a slim cream skirt and ruffled pink blouse. Like a cupcake with all the sugar left out. She scanned the room as if she were looking for someone in the thinning crowd. Devon, no doubt.

Grace’s face must have registered her disdain, as first Colleen then Jill turned to follow her gaze. Sophia’s eyes shot Grace a quiver of poison arrows before she stormed out the front door, decidedly Devon-less.

“She has
got
to learn to lighten up.” Jill said good-naturedly.

Colleen furrowed her brow. “Give her a break. Unrequited love does things to a girl.”

Graced startled. Colleen knew about Sophia and Devon?

“Cole, be nice.” Sam gave her a warning glance.

“Oh, Sammy.” Reaching over the counter, Colleen lightly backhanded his arm. “It’s all in good fun. Just because you’re all work and no play—”

“And a very dull boy.” Jill lightheartedly pursed her lips.

Sam jerked a glance over his shoulder toward Grace. “You see what I have to put up with.”

Put up with?
Her fists clenched.

“You love it.” Colleen’s tone remained playful. “Where would you be without the two of us?”

Sam squirmed. “Look, you two, if you don’t mind, we were just…” He motioned toward Grace.

“Oh!” Colleen’s face lit with instant comprehension. “We’re totally interrupting.”

After a swift but friendly valediction, the two departed, leaving Grace feeling as if she’d stepped into either
The Twilight Zone
or a Pinter play.

“Sorry about that.” Sam tipped his head toward the departing women, his back still to Grace.

She gave him a long, hard stare. What kind of man played two friends against each other? To make matters worse, he was clearly willing to involve her in this too. Did he think she was an idiot? She hauled off and cuffed his bicep, trying not to notice how firm it felt against her palm.

“Ow!” He grabbed his arm and pivoted around. “Why’d you hit me?”

Feeling like her mental filing cabinet had been ransacked, she lifted her hands to her temples. Where to begin? “So, Colleen lives above your store?”

His look begged her to get to the point. “Uh…yeah.”

“And Jill. She knows about that?”

“Knows?” His brow furrowed. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

Not a secret?
The need for comprehension seized her mind. “Colleen seemed so upset.”

“Upset?”
Mr. Innocent
. “When?”

“Yesterday. It sounded like you were fighting.”

His brow creased, then understanding dawned. “Oh, yeah. We were.” His eyes rolled to the side. “I appreciate your concern.”

Her
concern?
Sure she was concerned that he was a rotten two-timer. Strange that Jill didn’t seem to share her concern.

He returned his attention to Salvatore. “We fight all the time. Mostly about Dad.”

His last sentence caught her by surprise. “So, she’s concerned about your dad.”

“To put it mildly. She thinks he should do the chemo. The last thing he needs is for her to be yelling at him that he’s crazy for wanting to do this other treatment.”

Grace bristled, mystified and disturbed by the casual inclusion of this woman in his personal life. “Why is she so involved?”

His brow furrowed. “She really misses Mom. When you’ve lost one parent, you kind of cling to the other one.”

Grace swallowed a gasp as his meaning became clear. Colleen was his
sister?
He wasn’t a rotten two-timer. He wasn’t a hypocrite. Her jaw dropped like a backdrop during a scene change. He’d stripped away her last reason not to trust him.

“Of course,” he went on, apparently oblivious to her recent revelation. “It doesn’t help that she blames me.”

“Blames you?” Her voice was barely a squeak. Suddenly everything started to make sense. “For your mom?”

“That, and she thinks it’s my fault Dad won’t do chemo. Plus she’s totally against selling the theatre to Langley. That’s why she was acting so crazy tonight—'moving the party across the street’. She thinks the casino’s going to ruin the town.”

The tingle of guilt returned. What had Glo said about storing up your riches in Heaven? “I hope she’s wrong.”

“Yeah, well.” Turning his back once again, he began suturing up Sal’s side. “Sorry for the mess. I thought I could fix the problem myself, but no such luck.”

Funny. She could say the same. “Sam, I—”

His voice was strained. “I’d like to take him over to my shop if that’s alright.”

“Oh, sure.” She waved a hand. Sal was the least of her concerns at the moment. “Sam, I…I’m so sorry.”

He tipped her a bemused grin. “You are?”

“Yes. You were right.”

“Okay. About what?”

“You said God uses everything for good. Even your mom’s death.”

“I’m not quite following.”

What was she trying to say? The harsh memory of her near-death in the alley assaulted her mind. What would have become of her if she’d died? “You told me that story to help me understand about salvation, and…” She straightened, looking him in the eye.

The most important question of her life waited in the wings. She had to be sure.

Chapter 37

“Will you pray with me?” Grace’s question came out on a near-whisper.

A tentative smile found Sam’s mouth. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.” She nodded. “Show me the way.”

He took her hands. “Just repeat the words I say and ask Jesus into your heart.”

She closed her eyes and listened to the gentle cadence of his voice as he led her in prayer asking Jesus to be her savior. Something moved through her—something even more powerful than the rush of filling an opera house with her voice. Whatever it was filled her soul, and she knew she’d never be the same.

When she opened her eyes, she realized that tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked up at Sam, whose broad grin had taken over his entire face. “Congratulations on your new life.” He enclosed her in a warm hug, and she willingly wrapped her arms around his waist.

“
New life
.” She felt light, like a burden had been lifted. To think she’d been fighting all this time to return to her old one.

He pulled back, maintaining his grip on her upper arms, and looked into her eyes. His face turned serious and for a moment, she was unsure what he was going to do. Suddenly, he let out a holler that could have carried to the upper balcony of the Met, lifting her off the floor and spinning her out of the stand.

She let loose with an operatic laugh. He set her down and she caught onto his upper arms to regain her balance.

“I have to admit, I’ve been praying for you since…” His eyes grew large as something behind her caught his attention.

Turning, she followed his gaze to the lobby, which was now completely vacant except for an indignant-looking Devon. He held the crate in front of him.

“Well.” His sarcastic tone cut through the quiet room. “This is a cozy scene.”

Grace jumped out of Sam’s arms. Why did her timing have to be so off?

“Terrific.” Sam’s countenance of joy had been replaced by a look of pure primal challenge.

“Calm down, Roberts.” Devon’s air of affront evaporated into impatience. “I’m here to see the lady.”

Jaw firming, Sam nodded. His eyes grazed over the crate. “I didn’t exactly think you were here to see me.”

Devon shook his head. “No. That appointment can wait until morning.”

Grace’s heart filled. Mr. Roberts was signing away the theatre in the morning. If the money from the painting was going to make a difference, she’d have to tell Sam about it tonight. Whatever it was that had filled her soul now filled her with the courage of her conviction.

“Thanks for bringing the painting.” She looked at the crate. “Because I have to tell Sam about it.”

Devon’s face blanched white as a diva’s petticoat. “What do you mean ‘tell him’?”

Her heart threatened to pound a dent in her ribcage. “I decided to give him half the money. I know I should have told you first, but—”

Devon’s eyes flared. “What, the million they’re getting for this place isn’t enough?”

“Whoa.” Sam waved his arm like a referee. “What’s going on here?”

Devon’s eyes flashed an icy warning at Grace. In one awful second she realized she had to risk everything—the safety afforded by the money, the career-changing role, even the possibility of love—all because it was the right thing to do. She looked into Sam’s questioning eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sam.” She firmed her resolve. “Remember that painting I bought from you?”

His look grew more confused. “What about it?”

“Well, it’s worth more than you realized.”

“Yeah?” A hopeful glint flashed across his face. “How much more?”

She pulled in a wince. “About one point two million more.” Swallowing hard, she allowed that to sink in.

His eyebrows lifted as he looked at the crate, then back at Grace. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that the painting—the one that hung on that wall over there since who knows when—is worth over a million bucks?”

Grace nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “I have the paperwork to prove it.”

He cautioned a chuckle. “So what exactly are you telling me?”

She turned slightly in an attempt to block out Devon’s disapproving glower. “I’m telling you that your dad can afford to take one of those lower offers for the theatre because I’m going to give you half the proceeds from the painting.”

His jaw dropped as a tentative laugh escaped his lips. “You’re not kidding?”

She shook her head. He grabbed her again, this time pulling her into a serious bear hug. When he drew back, Devon held out a hand to him.

“Congratulations, Roberts.”

Sam looked at his hand a moment before accepting his shake. “You seem awfully calm for a guy who just wasted two months on a deal that’s not going to pan out.”

Devon shrugged. “Deals sometimes fall through. Besides,” he scanned Grace from head to toe, skillfully lingering at certain points. “It’s not like my time here has been wasted. I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Sam’s jaw firmed and his center of gravity seemed to shift as if he was fighting the urge to lunge. He regained his composure, and huffed out a laugh. “So, Sinclair. You’re leaving tomorrow. Can’t say I’ll be sad to see you go.”

A potpourri of emotions fought for Grace’s attention. What was with these guys? Devon was willing to take the high road. Couldn’t Sam just get over it?

Sam turned to Grace, his stern expression melting slightly. “I’m going to grab Sal and head home to tell my dad.” He turned his eyes on Devon while still speaking to Grace. “Will you be okay?”

She startled at his question. Why wouldn’t she be? Her head bobbed in reassurance.

“Good.” His eyes lit on the crate, which Devon still held tightly. “Did you want me to carry that to your car for you?”

Devon blazed him with a glare, and Grace reached for the crate.

“No,” she said, taking it from Devon and turning toward the stand. “I’ll just put it in here till I’m ready to leave.”

Sam stepped in front of her and grabbed the crate, his hands lingering on her arms as he met and held her gaze.

Devon reached for Grace’s upper arm. “That’s all wrapped for shipping.”

The sharpness of his tone took her by surprise. “Great, but I’m not shipping it. It’s going with me.” She released her hold on the crate, allowing Sam to take it.

“Even so…” His grasp on her arm still tight, Devon shot fire at Sam. “I followed Ty’s exact specs for protecting it—sealing up the crate. He really knows what he’s doing when it comes to art. It would be a shame if you damaged it before it gets to the dealer.”

She nodded, perplexed by his insistence. “Got it.”

Sam’s eyes fixed on Devon’s claw-like grip on Grace’s arm. Devon released his hold, and Sam took the crate into the stand.

Grace sighed, her eyes lingering on Devon. He seemed to avoid her gaze.

In a moment, Sam emerged from the stand, having exchanged the crate for Salvatore. He gave Grace a concerned look. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

She nodded. Why did he keep asking her that?

After a disapproving nod toward Devon, Sam headed out the front of the theatre.

Wanting to avoid an argument, she floundered for an explanation that Devon would accept. “It only seemed right to share the profit, considering—”

“Yes, of course.” He let out a caustic chortle. “I can’t think of a more fitting gesture.”

Her mouth froze around her rambling justification, leaving her speechless. She didn’t have to convince him. He actually seemed to like the idea.

Devon sounded almost giddy. “I love the poetic justice.”

“You’re not upset about the casino?”

He tipped a casual shrug. “So my deal falls through.” He chuckled as he reached for her hands. “What’s fifty thousand dollars compared to…” He cut short his thought. “I mean, it’s only money.”

She raised her brow. “Langley was going to pay you fifty thousand dollars ?”

He shrugged. “As finder’s fees go, that’s pretty modest.” He smiled slyly. “I’ve seen better, believe me.” He glanced out the window. “I really should go.”